


An Inch of Gold

by p1013



Series: Kinkuary 2021 [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Dom Harry Potter, Dom/sub Play, Edging, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, POV Draco Malfoy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Sub Draco Malfoy, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p1013/pseuds/p1013
Summary: "You're doing so well," Harry murmurs, his thumb resting against Draco's lower lip. Without thought, Draco lets his mouth fall open, lets Harry press against the firm, wet surface of Draco's tongue. "Get me wet, love."
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinkuary 2021 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140512
Comments: 18
Kudos: 249
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	An Inch of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Day 21 - Overstimulation

Draco's hands are tied behind his back, the rope carefully looped about his ankles so that if he shifts, it draws tighter. He's naked and covered in sweat, and as he shifts his weight, his cock bobs obscenely before him.

It's so hard, it aches. Pleasure is rooted low and deep in his center, its tangled roots wrapped around every painful inch of his overworked body. Even the cool air of the room is too much stimulation. He can't tell if he's sweating from the strain on his body or the fever in his blood.

Harry's hand brushes Draco's shoulder, and he tries to arch into the caress, but it's gone as soon as it arrives. Draco tilts his head to the side, searching for something, desperate.

"Drink," Harry says as he puts a glass to Draco's mouth. Draco sips at the cool water gratefully, letting it spill from the corners of his mouth in his enthusiasm. "Slowly. You'll make yourself sick."

Draco swallows and gasps, "Please."

Harry takes the glass away.

"Colour."

"Green." Like his eyes.

Draco hears the glass settle on a table, then Harry's footsteps as he approaches. He touches Draco's shoulder again, lets his hand trail from Draco's back to his front as Harry walks around Draco's body, stopping before him, only to draw Draco's gaze up with a gentle press of two fingers under Draco's chin.

Harry's dressed to perfection. A white starched shirt that fits his shoulders like a dream, tucked into well-tailored black trousers that encase his legs like a lover's touch. His black leather belt is still fastened around his waist, but Draco can't help but wonder if it'll leave its loops, if he'll hear the clatter of the buckle as Harry readies the belt between his hands.

Draco's cock twitches, aching.

"You're doing so well," Harry murmurs, his thumb resting against Draco's lower lip. Without thought, Draco lets his mouth fall open, lets Harry press against the firm, wet surface of Draco's tongue. "Get me wet, love."

He doesn't have to be told twice. Eyes sliding shut, he draws Harry's thumb deeper into his mouth, sucking on it like he'd suck on Harry's prick if it was offered. He wraps his tongue around the tip, then swallows it as deep as he can. The web between Harry's thumb and his hand digs into the corner of Draco's mouth almost to the point of pain, and while it's not choking on Harry's fingers like he wants, it's good enough for now.

Harry draws his thumb out, then replaces it with two fingers. Draco splits them apart with his tongue, gags as Harry presses down in the very back of Draco's mouth. Though he wants to spit them out, he fights against the reflex, softens his throat, breathes slow and easy, and Harry pushes his fingers another inch deeper.

When he pulls his hand free this time, Draco opens his eyes sluggishly. It would be unacceptable for him to miss this.

Harry kneels down and places one of his spit-slicked fingers to the tip of Draco's cock. The touch is like lightning through his body, and Draco arches up, groaning. Harry's touch stays the same, just one fingertip resting on Draco's cockhead. The pad grows slicker as precome leaks from Draco, a string of white that stretches between them as Harry takes his hand away.

"You've been so patient," he says as he touches the bunched muscles of Draco's thighs. Another soft caress that feels like pain. "It's been, what, thirty minutes? Forty?"

"Forty-three," Draco says. Harry had told him to keep count. There's a clock in the corner of the room, a Muggle one that Draco still struggles to read, even on the best of days. 

Harry rewards Draco with a light brush against his balls, held up and tight by a cock ring.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asks, always considerate, even as he's doing his level best to ruin Draco.

"No," Draco gasps as Harry wraps his hand around Draco's balls and squeezes. "No."

Tugging on them as he pulls away, Harry smiles. "What about this?"

His finger brushes up the underside of Draco's prick, and Draco has to grit his teeth to stop from screaming.

"You know it does," he spits out, eyes screwed shut until Harry slaps Draco's thigh with meaning, and his eyes fly open again.

"I didn't tell you you could close them." Harry digs his fingers into the reddening flesh. "I don't want to get the cage."

Draco's hips rise at the thought, but he fights it back, muscles quaking. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Harry hums quietly to himself and continues to touch Draco's cock with feather-light strokes. Just barely-there presses of skin against skin that make the breath catch in Draco's lungs. It's not long before he feels his orgasm tightening in his stomach, but before he can warn Harry, Harry's already pulled away.

"How long?"

Panting, sweat dripping down his face, Draco looks at the clock. "Fifty-one minutes."

"I think an hour." Harry says it as if they're planning on leaving the house for dinner. He's so calm, so collected. Draco wants to destroy that serenity, wants to rip it to shreds and expose the beast lurking within.

"Yes, sir," Draco says, and readies himself for the oncoming assault.

Harry starts with soft touches, limited to Draco's shaft. He wraps his thumb and forefinger around the length, then trails them up and down, slowly but steadily, until Draco has to lock all of his muscles tight to stop himself from thrusting into the loose hold.

Harry reaches for his wand, murmurs and spell, and as soon as Draco hears the low humming, he nearly thrashes away.

"Colour," Harry asks, still and patient. Waiting.

Draco isn't sure. "Green. Yellow. It's too much, Harry. I can't..."

"Do you trust me?" His hand pushing Draco's sweaty hair away from his face is gentle.

Draco turns his head, kisses Harry's palm. "Yes."

"Do you trust me to know your limits?"

Draco nods.

"Then trust me with this. I'll make you feel so good, darling. You're nearly there."

"Okay," he pants out, body shaking with fear and trust and pleasure. "I trust you."

"Good." Harry kisses Draco's forehead, then pulls away. "Tell me your colour, love."

"Green," he gasps, and then Harry puts the tip of his wand to the underside of Draco's prick.

The vibration makes every muscle in his body clench. The pleasure is like pain is like fire. He's overly sensitive, and the razor-sharp ache of it all is nearly too much. 

The cock ring won't let him come. Harry won't let him come. But all Draco's body is doing is screaming out that he must, that this pleasure can't continue, that he's going to fall and shake apart and become nothingness if he doesn't.

"How many minutes?" Harry asks.

As if from some far away place, Draco drags his eyes open to look at the clock. "Fifty-nine."

"Good, love. Nearly there."

Harry presses at the underside of Draco's cockhead, holds his wand there as his other hand reaches for Draco's balls and the cockring. Everything is swimming around Draco, lost in the sea of overwhelming pleasure. He's going to drown in it. He's going to die.

Then the pressure around the base of his cock releases, and Harry's bright green eyes meet his.

"Now, Draco."

In a rush, like breaking through the surface of the sea into the glorious salt-tinged air, Draco comes.

It rips through him like a tidal wave, washing everything else from his mind and body but the stunning, overwhelming pleasure of it all. His aching wrists, his aching knees, the tension throughout his body, it's all wiped clean under the onslaught. All there is is pleasure, white and pure, and Harry's voice calling to Draco from a distance, praising him, guiding him home.

He slumps forward, cock twitching painfully as a final spurt of come dribbles out, and then Harry's there, letting Draco lean against his broad, welcoming chest.

"You did so well," he murmurs into Draco's ear, his hands around Draco's back to untie his wrists. When the knot gives way, Draco slumps further forward, and Harry's arms wrap around his chest, holding him close and steady. "You were so good for me."

"Tired," is all Draco can manage, his whole body limp and exhausted with satisfaction.

"Of course, darling. Let me get you up, hold on just a moment."

Harry lifts Draco's limp body like it weighs nothing. He feels weightless, so it must be. Carrying him carefully, Harry lays Draco out on their bed, wraps their blankets close around his body before untying the rope from his ankles.

"I'll be back with a flannel," he says, brushing Draco's hair to the side. "I'll be right here."

Draco hums, eyes falling shut easily. By the time Harry's back, though, he's started to shiver.

"Oh, darling," Harry says before wiping the warm, wet cloth across Draco's forehead. "Let's get you cleaned up. Do you need water?"

Unable to speak, Draco nods. A moment later, the glass is at his mouth, and he turns his head to the side to let Harry pour a careful sip into Draco's parched mouth. They stay that way for a long while, Draco taking tiny gulps of water, Harry making sure none of it spills. When Draco pulls away, Harry sets the glass aside.

"Well done," he says before lifting the blankets aside to clean up Draco's skin. "You've done so well for me, love."

Still and relaxed, Draco listens to Harry undress. The mattress dips under his weight, and then Harry's pulling Draco close against him. His body is so warm, so strong, and as Draco leans into it, he starts drifting off.

"I love you," he murmurs into Harry's throat.

He doesn't hear Harry say the words back, already asleep, but he doesn't need to.

Draco knows.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote PWP! I told you I'd do it!


End file.
